


communion

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Shameless [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace, Blow Jobs, Facials, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28074309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: What Dean needs is to see Castiel through to completion—and what Castiel needs is communion.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Shameless [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/464476
Comments: 8
Kudos: 161





	communion

Dean is a miracle of humanity, from the nerve endings under his skin to his eyes, unbelievably green and vibrant. Looking down, Castiel watches him move, the subtle flutter of his eyelids, the strain of his shoulders, his neck. His lips stretch so beautifully, wrapped warm and tight around where Castiel is most sensitive. Dean’s tongue, wet and pillow-soft, runs up the length of him, tracing over veins and heated skin until the suction loosens and Dean pulls off.

Gentle kisses pepper the vee of his hips, then lower, to the coarse hairs below his navel. “You gonna give it to me?” Dean asks, sly and husky. His eyes shine under the light of the motel lamp, and his lips gleam, wet with spit and precome and swollen from kisses. He strokes up Castiel’s cock, thumbing across the slit; a shiver runs up Castiel’s spine, and his cock jumps, demanding more. “Or are you gonna make me wait all night?”

Castiel takes him by the hair—not unkindly, but with just enough force to let Dean know who has the power here. “When I feel you’ve earned it,” he says, and Dean moans, gripping Castiel’s hips.

Like this, Dean goes wherever Castiel wants him to. His soul reaches out easily, and Castiel answers it with a harder tug, a rougher touch. Dean opens his mouth, and Castiel slides inside, shivering as Dean envelops him. Guiding him is easy, and Dean moves willingly, pliant as he slides up Castiel’s shaft to the base, then to the tip, long, slows strokes that make Castiel wonder how Dean does it, lets himself go, body and mind.

Dean’s eyes roll back, sighing through his nose, like this is the only thing he’d rather be doing. The rest of the world can wait, so long as Castiel has this moment, this warmth—and Dean, most of all.

“You’re so good,” Castiel hums, leaning his head back against the cheap wallpaper. Dean grips him tighter, fingers trembling, slipping on sweating skin. Loosening his hold, Dean pulls off to worship him with his tongue, running the flat of it up Castiel’s length, gathering up precome and swallowing it without hesitation.

Castiel watches him through hooded eyes and pets Dean’s hair, sweat-sheened and sticking to his head. Only a few minutes like this, but it might as well be a lifetime, with Dean on his knees, bathing him in adoration. Castiel wants to absolve him, wants to mark him for the other angels to see that this human is his, that this human bears his mark on his skin, his tongue.

In the dim light, a red flush spreads down Dean’s chest, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. His cock tents the denim, and Castiel moves his foot, pressing the sole of his shoe against the bulge; eyes rolling back, Dean falls forward, held up solely by the hand in his hair, the other pressed into the fingertips scarring his shoulder. “Not yet,” Castiel scolds, and Dean whines, hips rutting into Castiel’s shoe. “Not until you’ve earned it.”

“I’ve earned it,” Dean moans. He exhales a warm breath against Castiel’s cock, his eyes wet with tears. Not from sadness, but pure want. “Please, Cas—”

“No.” Thumb to Dean’s lip, Castiel opens his mouth, pressing the digit to his tongue. “Show me how much you think you deserve this, and I might let you have it.”

“Please.” Desperate, Dean digs his fingers into the backs of Castiel’s bare thighs.

But Castiel refuses to move, and instead pulls Dean forward, slapping his cock onto his outstretched tongue. After that, he doesn’t talk, not while he sucks Castiel to the back of his throat. He could go further, if he wanted—and Castiel wants. “Do you trust me?” Castiel asks. Slowly and with skepticism, Dean nods. Castiel urges him up straighter and cups Dean’s throat, releasing a burst of Grace; after that, Dean relaxes, and Castiel slides in the rest of the way, until Dean’s nose nestles into the short hairs at the base.

Shock flutters across Dean’s face, then understanding—and he relaxes as much as he can, his mouth slack and loose while Castiel fucks him, gripping Dean’s hair by the root. And Dean goes, his eyes leaking and saliva pooling on his tongue, spilling down his chin. He looks up at Castiel, and all Castiel sees is euphoria, from both Dean’s face and his soul thrumming underneath, finally at ease.

This man—this scarred, beautiful, holy man—is more than Castiel ever dreamed of. More than Castiel ever expected in a person. Yet here Dean is, his every touch love and light, even in these most intimate of moments. Castiel wants to keep him—wants to protect him, wants to give him everything, and then some.

Feverish, Castiel pulls free from the vice grip of Dean’s mouth. Dean sucks in air, still tugging at him, begging in every way he can. “Please,” Dean moans, shaking with need. “Please, Cas, I—”

“I know.” Because what Dean needs is to see Castiel through to completion—and what Castiel needs is communion.

Desperate, Castiel strokes himself, and Dean parts his lips in invitation, waiting. Heart in his throat and skin searing, Castiel forces himself to watch Dean as he comes, his release gleaming and brilliantly vibrant against Dean’s tanned skin. Grace-laden come pools in the corner of Dean’s nose, the mess of it dripping down his cheek, some peppering his lips. Shaking and gasping for breath, Castiel gathers it up in the aftershocks and lets it glow on his fingertips, lets Dean look at it before he offers them to Dean’s waiting mouth. What Dean has wanted all along—and, incidentally, Castiel as well.

Dean takes his wrist before he sucks Castiel’s fingers. Grace sates him in a way nothing else could, and Castiel watches his soul calm, watches the green of his eyes grow bright blue. “You really are special,” Castiel murmurs.

And Dean, cheeky as ever, grins.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhh Ana might've mentioned something on Twitter last night and it wouldn't let me go until I wrote it. OKAY back to writing these other fics that won't leave me alone!!!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


End file.
